


Deep Water

by FidotheFinch



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Whumptober 2019, shackles, threat of drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22011472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FidotheFinch/pseuds/FidotheFinch
Summary: He resigned himself to waiting, and it was then that he noticed the water had risen.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 217





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Whumptober 2019 and posted it on tumblr back in October, but I have only now gotten around to editing it (and figuring out an acceptable title) so I can post it.

Rough fabric scratched Robin’s face as the sack was pulled from his head.

Two Face took a step back to admire his work.

Damian grit his teeth and yanked at the shackles linking his wrists to the bridge struts. Water already lapped up over the lip of the concrete base he was chained to, and although his Robin boots were waterproof, he was left with no doubt that it was freezing. “What is this, some kind of test?” he asked.

Two Face smiled on his good side. “Not for you.” He tilted his head to the side. “Batman is in town, right? I’d hate for him to miss this.”

Damian sneered. “ _Yes_. And I will be gone before he arrives.”

Now both sides of Harvey’s face were pulled up. “Oh, I bet you will. I’ve just left a few errands for him to run, first.” He waved to the henchmen behind him without looking. “I’d better be on my way, son. Don’t stay out too late, you’ll catch a cold.”

He winked—or maybe it was just a blink—and his little boat pulled away from the bridge and was lost to the mist.

Damian’s breath came out in angry puffs. He maneuvered his hands so he could reach his ear. “Robin to Batman.”

Static.

Damian tried one more time, before concluding the bridge’s infrastructure interfered with the signal. He was on his own.

His fingers were going numb quickly. The shackles were too tight, cutting off circulation. There was no way he would be able to slip them, and as feeling leeched out of his fingers he realized he wouldn’t be picking any locks, either.

It didn’t matter; he was in the middle of a body of water. He counted two more bridge struts to either of his sides, until they disappeared into the thick fog that covered Gotham’s waters each night. From the looks of things, he was left in the middle of the bridge. But he had no clues as to which one; he wouldn’t even know which direction to swim.

He resigned himself to waiting, and it was then that he noticed the water had risen.

His eyes widened, and though he pressed his back to the freezing metal strut, the water still sloshed around his ankles.

His conversation with Two Face clicked into perspective. The tides surrounding Gotham rose and fell rapidly and drastically. High tide was six hours away, but as Robin tested the length of his chain, he concluded he had no more than thirty minutes before the water was over his head.

His heart sped up at the thought.

He set to work immediately, refreshing his attempts to wiggle out of the cuffs. They dug into his skin, even through his gloves, and he gave up when he rolled a vessel in his wrist and sent sparks of pain down his fingers and up his arm. Instead, he turned his attention to the chain, knowing it only took one weak link to escape.

He stubbornly refused to acknowledge that he had no way back to shore.

He thrust his body weight against the chain, grasping it between his hands to protect his wrists. His back popped, and he splashed water (it flooded his boots, now) up to his thighs. But the chain held fast, and Damian knew there was no way the bridge itself would be weak enough to break through.

His cape, lined with a protective thermal layer, floated behind him. Despite this, it was saturated with cold water, a heavy weight on his shoulders. Damian had flipped his hood up to protect his head and face from the frigid air, but he considered the possibility of releasing it to be dragged away with the currents.

Only when the water reached his stomach, he decided. That would be when the heat protection wouldn’t matter anymore.

The water steadily crept higher, tickling his legs, and Damian tried not to think about it as he paced the perimeter of the flooring. His circles got smaller when the water was high enough for the currents to have significant pull; he didn’t want to risk being sucked off the platform. Even if he was attached to the bridge, undertow was a threat he took seriously.

The water reached his hips, and Damian was shocked into standing still. It _hurt_ ; it _burned_. He took several deep breaths to calm himself. Realizing nobody but himself could hear, he told himself, “Batman is on his way.”

He was, wasn’t he?

It was a good distraction, imagining what kind of traps Two Face must have set up. Bombs, set to go off around the city? The mayor, tied up in a warehouse under a goon’s watch? A mass exodus from Arkham?

Damian swallowed. He was shivering now. Two Face would have given Batman a choice to make. Robin was clearly one of them. But as the water inched past his navel, Damian began to doubt he was the one chosen. Batman would have been here by now.

Of course Father would have chosen Gotham. He had to protect the greater good; it was right.

Damian felt very small.

The water kissed his lower ribs, and from this angle it looked endless. Damian craned his neck back to seek out the road he knew must be above him. The fog obscured it from view; the bridge strut fading into nothing the higher it went.

“B-Batman,” he called out. His voice seemed small, too, consumed by the endless void surrounding him.

His fingers fumbled with the locking mechanism, but he released his cape and, numbly, watched it drift away. He wondered if it would get washed to shore, if someone would find it and return it to his family.

He wondered if Bruce would put it in a glass case like Jason’s.

The cold stole his breath. The water seemed to press in on both sides of his chest. He had to pant. Damian tried to keep his arms out of the water, but the chain was heavy, and he let them sink and get dragged along with the current, which was stronger now that he was deeper.

He almost missed it, eyes latching onto a stick floating by when a bright light burst, far away. But he caught the movement from the corner of his eye, and he squint at the spot, so he didn’t miss the second flash.

“Batman! I’m—” something dragged along by the current swept a foot out from beneath him, and his entire body was dunked under the water. His shackles caught him before he was swept off the platform. Damian inhaled and coughed out a mouthful of water before he was able to drag himself back next to the strut.

The water reached his neck.

Damian had to fight the urge to cough to continue shouting. “Batman! Over here!”

The light swiveled in his direction. He may have been imagining it, but Damian thought it was getting bigger.

He had to start kicking to keep his chin above water. He strained his ears, but he couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the river. “Batman! Here!”

Swimming was hard work. His voice lost volume as he focused on gasping through the painful cold.

Gradually, the light got closer. Damian thought he could make out that it was round, like a flashlight.

His chain pulled taught.

Damian didn’t realize it until he tried to reflexively raise his arms to protect himself from debris floating past. The hard yank pulled him under again.

He resurfaced with a gasp. He didn’t have enough breath to keep yelling.

He was tired. Without his arms to help, he had to rely on kicking alone to keep himself afloat. His toes didn’t brush the concrete anymore.

The water slithered up to his mouth, and Damian snapped his chin up uncomfortably.

It filled his ears and worked its way forward, a mask of liquid.

Damian strained against the shackles holding him down. Something in his wrist may have popped; he was too numb and terrified to care.

The flashlight was a searchlight attached to a boat.

Water flooded Damian’s vision, and then everything was black.


	2. Unconscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman disabled the bomb with mere seconds to spare, and without taking even a moment to breathe, he whipped out the radio Two-Face had left for him earlier that night.
> 
> “Where is Robin,” he growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient with me! Here's the next chapter!

Batman disabled the bomb with mere seconds to spare, and without taking even a moment to breathe, he whipped out the radio Two-Face had left for him earlier that night.

“Where is Robin,” he growled.

Two-Face didn’t answer immediately, and in those two seconds Bruce felt his blood pressure rising. The criminal was lucky he was on the other side of the radio, or he’d be dangling over the edge of Gotham’s tallest tower right now.

_“Sorry, Batman. You made your choice. Gotham’s more important than one little bird, isn’t it?”_

Bruce’s lips pulled back to bare his teeth. “Tell me where he is!” He flung himself into the Batmobile, and the engine rumbled to life.

 _“Should I let you retrieve the body? Choices, choices._ ”

Bruce’s gloves creaked as they tightened on the steering wheel. He was tempted to just drive, in any direction, to feel the power of the vehicle and to feel like _he was doing something_.

A _ping_ rang through the radio; the familiar sound of a coin toss.

 _“The Brown Bridge_.”

He was already speeding through the streets before Two Face finished. Old Gotham was a fifteen-minute drive from the bridge. He could make it in ten if he pushed. “More specific.”

_“Under the Brown Bridge.”_

Batman’s heart stopped, his brain running overdrive. “What did you do?”

“ _It wasn’t what I did, it’s what you did. Our choices have consequences, Batman. Sorry about the kid.”_

“HARVEY!”

The radio was silent.

He threw it out the window.

Brown Bridge spanned between Gotham and its neighboring, mainland cities. It was longer and wider than any other bridges in Gotham, and the water was deeper. Damian didn’t have much time.

The Batmobile screeched to a halt at the mouth of the bridge. Bruce spent a precious ten seconds considering whether to just drive across the bridge and lower himself down, but decided against it when even his brightest headlights barely cut through the fog. He wouldn’t be able to get close enough without checking each support beam, and he doubted he had that much time.

Instead, he pressed a button on his console and abandoned the car on the rocky shore. And, without a moment of hesitation, he dove into the icy waters.

It was cold enough to take his breath away.

He fished his rebreather from his utility belt and fit it into his mouth, all while fighting the currents to get further away from shore.

A buzzing came from far to his left, rising in pitch and volume as it got closer. He squinted through the fog and caught sight of his Batboat, headed straight for him at its highest speeds. As the boat reached him, he disabled the autopilot and angled himself so the boat would race right by him. He caught the ropes lining the sides and pulled himself up, without having to sacrifice any of the speed the boat had gained in the meantime.

The fog was still too dense to see through; this far away from shore and the bridge struts, he felt miles away from any living being. Still, once he had caught his breath, he called out. “Robin!”

It didn’t even echo, swallowed by the fog and the roaring water.

Bruce clenched his jaw, striding to the front of the boat and flipping on the large searchlight mounted there. The light did slightly better piercing through the mist, giving him enough vision to confidently steer toward the bridge.

He scanned the first strut he passed longer than he should have, perhaps in naïve hope that Two Face had placed Robin within easy reach. The water crashed against the metal pillar hard enough to cause anybody injury, and it was clear that the water had risen within the last fifteen minutes by the way the frost on the metal retreated from the water. But there was no sign of Damian, even when he flipped to his thermal vision. No heat signatures at all.

He moved on.

The current fought the boat all the way, trying to pull Bruce under the bridge. He kept a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and pressed the vehicle to go faster. It did an admiral job, zipping to the next metal column faster than any boat ought to. (It wasn’t fast enough. Bruce would have to make modifications later.)

No Robin.

“Robin!” he called again, turning the light toward the next structure down.

He thought he caught sight of some movement, and at first he dismissed it as trash floating in the water. But as he got closer, the search light pooled around bright yellow.

Damian’s cape.

Heart racing, he willed the boat to pick up speed, using the current to his advantage. Within seconds he was close enough to recognize it was an empty cape, no boy attached. Still, he scooped the drenched cloth from the water as he turned the boat again, eyes following the current to its source. It couldn’t have come from the next column, judging by the angle.

Bruce skipped it, hoping he wasn’t making a grave mistake.

The next strut was the halfway point. The water was deepest here, and it was angry tonight.

And there was a head, bobbing barely above the water.

“Robin!”

Bruce doubted Damian could hear him.

Damian was a good swimmer; he had swum miles in open water by himself before. So there had to be a reason he was struggling so much here.

As he watched, the head sank below the surface. It didn’t reemerge.

Bruce was tempted to just jump in, but knew the boat had better odds against the currents than himself. He pushed the engine to dangerous speeds. When the boat hit a wave, it caught air before slamming back into the water. He braced his teeth and his feet and pushed it faster.

When he was close enough, he connected a line between himself and the boat and dove into the water again.

Damian was still.

It was a sight that made Bruce sick to his stomach. The boy was attached to the concrete base of the support by metal cuffs around his wrists, and though he floated slightly, his legs dragged listlessly with the current. His mouth hung open.

Fighting the panic rising within himself, Bruce took a deep breath before fixing his own rebreather to Robin’s face. It wouldn’t do any good if he had already inhaled water, but it was something.

When he started sawing at the chains around Damian’s wrists, the boy didn’t stir.

Bruce was lightheaded by the time he cut Damian free. He had to brace his feet against the metal column, Damian tight in his hold, to keep the smaller boy from being swept away.

Both heads broke the surface of the water, but only Bruce gasped for air. He summoned the Batboat, which had drifted since his dive. While he waited for it to return, he checked over Damian’s face. He peeled up the lenses of his mask, to reveal shut eyes. Damian’s pupils were only sluggishly responsive.

He hoisted the small boy over the lip of the boat and climbed in soon after.

“Robin,” he breathed, before kneeling next to him. He pulled out the rebreather and a stream of water trickled out of Damian’s mouth. Bruce quickly turned his head, and more followed, some of it from his nose.

Damian wasn’t breathing at all.

Bruce tilted the boy’s chin back, plugged his nose, and started rescue breaths. He ignored his own lightheadedness, instead eyeing Damian’s chest for movement as he forced air into it.

After four breaths, he stopped to listen for air. Nothing.

He ripped a glove off and rested fingers against Damian’s clammy skin. He could have cried when he felt a pulse, weak but there. But there was not time.

He leaned down for another set of breaths.

This time, on the last breath, Damian made a small sound in the back of his throat. It was enough warning for Bruce to tip him onto his side, where he immediately began hacking up dirty river water and whatever he had eaten for dinner.

Damian opened his eyes.

Bruce bent over him, hand sliding down the side of his son’s face. “Damian. Damian, you’re okay. You’re alive.”

Damian blinked at him with confusion, and his eyes drifted shut again. His face was pale, his lips were tinged blue. He was too cold. Bruce started rummaging through the emergency supplies on the boat, looking for the thermal heating pads he knew they kept there.

He stripped Damian of the wet uniform and replaced it with warm blankets. He placed the heating pads under Damian’s armpits and between his thighs. He rubbed Damian’s hands until some color came back into them, careful of the bruising already forming around his wrists, then repeated the process for his feet. The boat was on autopilot again, and they should arrive at the nearest Cave entrance within the next ten minutes.

They were halfway there when Damian’s eyes opened again. They wandered until they landed on Batman, who was still crouched over his feet.

“You came for me.”

Bruce’s hands stilled. He examined Damian’s face again, and decided he was regaining color. “I’m here.”

“I thought. . . “ Damian trailed off. The water running down his face wasn’t from the river.

Bruce cupped the sides of Damian’s face again, and ran his thumbs across his cheeks. His face was still cool to the touch, and slightly sticky from the drying river water.

In that moment, Bruce regretted his decision. Gotham’s villains would always present a choice, and Batman had a responsibility to the city. But Bruce had a responsibility for his children, too, and tonight he had failed.

“I will always come for you.” He hoisted Damian into a sitting position so he could wrap his arms around him in a tight embrace. " _Always_."


End file.
